


Intel Requires a Hefty Price

by orphan_account



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Dom/sub, F/M, Filthy, Gratuitous Smut, Lap Sex, Lap dancing, Praise Kink, Shameless Smut, Smut, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22809898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The things Javier does for information are dubious at best. And sometimes those things aren't just for the information.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader
Kudos: 36





	Intel Requires a Hefty Price

Eleven at night is hardly late enough for shit like this, but Javier just got out of the office with a half-hearted wave to Murphy and as much as he would like to he doesn’t want to waste time preparing himself with a couple of drinks of whiskey. So, against his better judgment, he’s going in completely sober.

Music vibrates deep within the concrete streets, echoing off every jarring turn and pounding with each beat of his heart. Javier pulls a cigarette and lighter from the pocket of his leather jacket, the stick hanging limply out of his mouth as his he flicks the flame to life and his profile is briefly illuminated in orange. The burn of the tobacco in his lungs feels comforting and familiar. 

Crudely dressed partygoers wait in a line of velvet rope and sequin as each is either allowed or denied access into the club. Javier forgoes the waiting list, walking confidently with an involuntary swagger past each patronized clubber right up to the front doors.

His face is straight and stoic as he unclips his badge and holds it up for the bouncer to see. “Agent Peña, DEA.”

The bounce, a buff man with a goatee, slicked-back mullet, and arms perpetually crossed, laughs mockingly. “Conocemos usted, Agent Peña, ninguna necesidad de agitar su insignia llamativa alrededor de nosotros.

Javier rolls his dark eyes at the jeering taunt as he heads past the bouncer amid shouts of anger and disbelief into the void. It’s loud, bright, and packed—things he already has constantly in his brain, but now he’s willingly putting himself through it again. The air is warm with pheromones as he takes a look around to survey the playing field. 

Scantily-clad women run the place, but the horny men of varying ages far outweigh them in numbers. Guess Javier is one of them tonight, too. He finds you wrapped around a pole with money raining down around you. When you bend over, cleavage almost close to touch, only to flip back up, your hair sexily tousled as the men go wild, your eyes find him through the crowd. 

He doesn’t like the way your eye contact paired with a mischievous smirk sends a jolt straight to his dick. 

He keeps the poker face as he watches you end your routine, clearly with an emphasis towards him standing enigmatically in the corner. Watches as you speak with another bouncer before heading towards the VIP lounge and he knows that’s his cue. 

Ignoring the drunkards, the waitresses, the looks and stares once they notice his badge glinting against the neon lights, he makes his way to you as if it’s a children’s game of chase. A smooth entrance past the big, bad bouncer and he manages to catch the merest glimpse of your pumps round the corner.

The hallway, dotted on either side by velvet curtains, is dim, but you lean against the wall down a few steps, your entire outfit of glittering silver and baby pink a beacon. 

“Come for my information, Mr. DEA Man?” you ask, false modesty spilling from your mouth as you bat your silver eyelashes.

“Agent Peña,” he corrects around his cigarette, moving closer with deliberately slow steps, hands shoved cooly into the pockets of his jacket. “Don’t play coy with me.”

You forgo that persona in favor of the femme fatale, your bubblegum lips widening into a smirk. “And you don’t have to play so indifferently with me, Javier.” Your accent around near-perfect English is alluring, but he keeps his cool. “I’ve heard all the stories.”

“Have you now?”

“I want to see what all the fuss is about.” Your eyes unsubtly trail down to his bulge in his tight jeans and back up again. “Come, I’m impatient for my payment.”

You hold open the curtain as Javier ducks inside the dark room furnished only with a red chair. With a swish of the rings scraping against the rod, the two of you are swathed in a blanket of sexual tension and anticipation. 

He turns around, eyes you sashaying towards him, willingly lets you push on his shoulders so he’s sitting comfortably in the chair. Perfect time as the start of another song begins playing, muffled by walls but loud enough. Your hips gyrate, the tiny, glittered skirt blinding him from where he can’t help but stare at. Then you step towards him, turning around once you’ve effectively invaded his space, grinding and shaking your ass to the tempo of the song right in his crotch. 

“You’re doing all the work,” he grinds out, allowing his hands to fall to your shining hips.

You grasp those large hands, pulling them so you’re back-to-chest and trailing them over your stomach, your thighs, your breasts. “This is our foreplay.”

Javier’s cock strains against his jeans at the combination of your sultry words and the friction of your ass repeatedly grinding against it. Not of his own volition, his hand squeezes your breast and he loves the moan that follows. 

The song ends with you showcasing your flexibility as you bend as far to the floor as you can before flipping back up in a shower of fruity perfume and heavy breathing. As smooth and seamless as the next track, you turn yourself around to bring your legs over his, knees digging into the velvet. 

Two seconds of tense silence before you take the cigarette bud from between his lips and bring him in a for a deep kiss, tongues sliding together and when you pull away, you use a delicate, manicured thumb to wipe away the lipstick stain all over his mouth. 

“Perhaps another time I can find out what else those lips do?” The suggestion is heavily implied, but Javier doesn’t give you an answer. 

“What do you know about La Quica?” he asks instead, using both hands to grasp at your ass as an incentive. 

Wrong move because, while it gets a low groan out of you, it only succeeds in you rubbing against him. 

“Fuck me and I’ll tell you,” you reply in a heated whisper, reaching back to unclasp your bra. 

It falls sensually down your shoulders, but you fling it off to the side as you push yourself closer to him. He can’t stop himself from licking a long, wet stripe all the up the valley between your breasts, loving the way your hands tangle themselves in his hair and tug hard. Hot, open-mouthed kisses before he bites and pulls at one nipple then the other, getting off on the way you gasp at the pleasure.

“Tell me and I’ll fuck you.” A breathy, strained negotiation against your clavicle as his teeth bite bruising, proprietary marks into your soft skin. 

Fuck, he’s in too deep with you; it’s turned into another spiral he can’t escape. Doesn’t want to escape.

“Fine, I’ll fuck you, you self-righteous bastard.” 

With trained hands, you’re undoing his pants and freeing his straining, angry, red cock with a cold hand wrapped around the base. He hisses at the feeling, at the multitude of dizzying sensations. He’s not used to this, not used to not being in control. But part of him still doesn’t want to give in, to prove to you that he wants it just as badly, desperately. It’s backfiring because this confident dominance you’re exuding is only fogging his mind more.

You keep those glittering panties on, only pushing them to side as you maneuver yourself to sink onto him. Your cunt stretches so perfectly for him, the fit seamless save for your own desire occasionally clenching around him. His head falls back with a thud, cursing in Spanish as you simply let loose a low, sensual moan. 

“La Quica’s been frequenting the whore houses.” You barely get the words through clenched teeth and closed eyes, sitting still even though Javier aches for you to move. “Cycles through the same three every night.”

At your confession of just the tiniest bit of information, Javier suddenly straightens, wrapping an anchoring arm around you as he lifts you up and pulls you back down roughly. The gasp you release is music to his ears. “And?” he tries, hoping you get the gist of this game he’s decided to play.

“Besos de Satin— _ mierda _ —for the rich gringos.” A thrust. “ _ Oh, Javi _ —Las Rosas Espinosas, a front for drug-running.” Another thrust and another curse spewed from your bubblegum mouth. “And that nameless bordello down in the slums.”

“Good girl,” he praises into your perfumed neck, grunting as he tightens his hold on you when you try to move, “Anything else?”

“He has the same taxidriver driving him to each place, that’s all I know,” you all but sob, “I’ve told you everything, now please fuck me, Javi!”

He thinks you’re telling the truth, though it wouldn’t much matter because you’ve given him more than enough to go off of. So he appeases you, adhering to your pleas and his desire as he lessens his bruising hold on your hips. “You wanted to fuck me, so fuck me.”

The pace you set once he lets you loose is fast, desperate and animalistic as if you’ve been starving for weeks. He can’t stop himself from licking and biting your tits as they bounce deliciously in front of his face. He never thought letting the woman take control would turn him on so much. He’d only ever let himself be submissive with the occasional man, although he prefers to keep that on the down-low; as in, far back in his mind that only serious mental instability would make him crave a cock up his ass. Let’s forget he ever mentioned that.

You, on the other, hand, are a fucking mess. Javi’s dick is so much better than the girls always gossiped about. Finding him from across the club, tight jeans, leather jacket, cool demeanor—you were wet on the spot. This is an indulgence you’ll never be able to replicate, so you suppose you’ll just either have to seduce Mr. DEA Man or keep finding useful information. This sex is too good, and you wonder how much better it might be if you were bent over in submission to him. 

“ _ Mierda _ , Javi, I’m close!” Not even a second later, your thighs are shaking with the effort of keeping you upright as you clench and come all around him.

But Javier’s not finished; sitting up, he anchors you once more and relentlessly pounds into your overstimulated pussy, vying for his own release. Your cries are sharp shrills in his ears and tears bubble at the corners of your painted eyes. 

“Fucking cum in me, Javi, I want to feel it, I want it spilling out of me!” 

Not a particular fan of dirty talk himself, the throws of passion he currently finds himself lost in make him climax faster than he’d believed. With a few stuttering stops paired with harsh grunts, he releases into you unashamedly. His red button-up is coated with a V of sweat down his chest, hair stuck to his sticky forehead, and he feels positively filthy with sex. 

There’s a soft hiss from both of you as you pull yourself off of him, standing on wobbling legs. Your makeup is smeared, glitter and silver in immaculate trails down your puffy cheeks. But Javier can’t stop looking at your ruined panties, the wet spot so horribly visible and white beginning seep from the sides.

It’s enough to almost make him ready for round two…  _ if  _ there was going to be a round two. You’re going need more information that, and he won’t be so easily swayed about it next time.

He puts his flaccid dick away, still coated in your juices, and stands nonchalantly. Another cigarette is lighted and put into his mouth. 

“Maybe there’ll be a next time, yeah?” you suggest, eyebrow raised towards him as you head out into the hallway.

“If you’ve got information.” It’s said around the cancer stick as he sticks his hands back in his pockets and locks around in his typical show of indifference.

You step close to him, pumps clicking against the tiled floor, and press a kiss to his cheek with the intent to leave your trademark bubblegum stain. “We’ll see about that.” 

With a wink, you sashay away towards the opposite end of where you’d entered. Javier watches you for a minute, a smirk threatening to pull at his lips before he turns and walks away, too.


End file.
